


hope there is no more

by littlebmam



Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/F, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Primum non nocere, i'm not quite that evil, no one dies!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:26:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25554295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlebmam/pseuds/littlebmam
Summary: "She hadn’t slept the night before because even the best seat on an airplane was not meant for sleeping for the one who had a bad back. And she hadn’t slept the night before that either because even the best bed in the world was not meant for sleeping for the one who had an anxious heart."Primum Non Nocere was angsty. So I decided to make it even more angsty. Follows canon up until "I thought it was what we both wanted." Includes fragments of actual dialogue from the episodes.
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Comments: 30
Kudos: 111





	1. Chapter 1

Bernie turned off the TV, unable to keep watching the crap that was on there. Not that she’d actually been watching but she needed company. Or perhaps a distraction. Unfortunately the TV provided neither and soon she had to cry uncle because at her age she really couldn’t afford to lose any more brain cells than she strictly had to. And she might be sending some of them to their untimely end with a little help courtesy of her friends up on the coast of Islay.

She buried her face into a flat motel room pillow. It smelled of stale cigarette smoke and cheap detergent but she didn’t even notice. A long groan tore itself all the way from her belly through her chest and out her mouth, only to be muffled by old cotton seeped with what she presumed were at least a few decades worth of bad decisions made by those who came before her. Unfortunately it did absolutely nothing to ease the tension that had been slowly building inside Bernie for longer than she would ever dare to admit. 

_It’s been a long 5 months not to be with somebody._

She’d bought a bottle of whisky with the intention of drinking as much as she could as quickly as possible. It was a bit too good and slightly too expensive to be consumed like that but Bernie was beyond giving a damn about trivial matters like taste and money.

But for some reason the rational part of her brain, or perhaps simply the doctor in her, had risen to the surface and made the decision not to follow through with her initial plan. No amount of spirits was going to make Bernie forget _her._ Nevertheless, she was staring to regret the decision to face the music (well, silence, actually) without the heady crutch. No, she was never going to forget. But who says that remembering has to hurt? She’s been hurting long enough.

_Has it really been that long?_

She pulled the pillow from under her face and threw it to the side, resting her cheek against the cool surface of the cheap and too firm mattress which was definitely going to do a number on her back that was already a little dodgy from having attempted to sleep on a plane the night before. It seemed like all the more reason to give in and grab the bottle bottle of whisky that was on the night table. 

It looked like the forbidden apple. It didn’t look mouth-wateringly delicious or particularly enticing. Not like S- not like something one couldn’t resist because it was good but the complete opposite, something one couldn’t resist because it was bad. Bernie couldn’t see well enough in the poorly lit room to actually read the label so for all she knew there could actually be ‘Physician, destroy thyself’ written on it.

She really shouldn’t take the habit of drinking her sorrows up again but the bottle seemed to be calling to Bernie like a siren, beckoning her over to the dark side of temptations and sweet relief. She wasn’t sure she had the strength to keep up the fight.

_I made a commitment, I intend to honour it._

A buzzing noise came from somewhere under Bernie. Again. After the 4th time her phone had started ringing Bernie had finally picked it up and thrown it against the wall, where it ricocheted and slid under what tried to pass as a bed in what tried to pass as a motel in a part of Holby which had long since stopped trying for anything. Nice things are meant for nice people. She used to think she was one but the day that was slowly inching towards becoming tomorrow had made her seriously doubt that.

A few months ago, after Bernie had dropped and caused irreparable damage to yet another phone, Serena had bought and sent her a phone case. Apparently it was the best one, which really came as no surprise to Bernie, because her phone was still functioning enough to ring, even after it had come into in no way gentle contact with more than one hard surface. And ring it did, trying to coax Bernie into standing up, moving, talking.

_Never stopped you before._

But Bernie couldn’t do any of it. She felt sick almost to the point of thinking she was actually ill. She knew she wasn’t. She hadn’t eaten properly for the last two days, mostly running on caffeine and nervous energy. And even if she was, it’s not like she particularly cared. 

She felt sick and she felt tired. She hadn’t slept the night before because even the best seat on an airplane was not meant for sleeping for the one who had a bad back. And she hadn’t slept the night before that either because even the best bed in the world was not meant for sleeping for the one who had an anxious heart. 

_You’re not going to lose me. - I already have._

The past few days eventually caught up with Bernie and she drifted off to sleep, momentarily roused but not completely woken by a quiet ping coming from the phone which remained untouched under the bed. It didn’t ring again.

\---

Serena was waiting for an answer but yet another call to Bernie ended with a silent beep indicating that the attempted call was disconnected. She refilled her glass of Shiraz and tried again.

Nietzsche said that there was madness in love but as far as Serena knew he hadn’t mentioned anything about mandatory sadness. Something about friendships and unhappy marriages… but it’s not like she was married to Bernie. They’d talked about it and were actually going to do it some day but already it seemed as if it had been so long ago that they’d had that discussion.

_Now that was always the plan._

She was supposed to be drinking celebratory wine. Clinking glasses with Bernie and toasting to the long and happy life of Guinevere Elinor Haynes. Oh, she was very happy about the birth of her grandd- grandniece but turns out one can at the same time be over the moon about the most fantastic thing in the world and completely heartbroken over another.

Serena was heartbroken because she’d lost the one great love-affair of her life. And there was no one to blame but herself. She was the reason Bernie walked out. And she herself had let her. Bernie leaving broke her heart but she had broken Bernie’s first. So instead of celebratory wine she was drinking liquid pain relief which did exactly nothing to relieve her pain.

_I’m family but you’re not._

Another call went unanswered and Serena took another big gulp of wine to suppress the overwhelming desire to bolt, to just get up and run. She had nowhere to run. Correction, she knew very well to whom she wanted to run but she did not know where that ‘whom’ was. For a moment she contemplated giving up because whatever little bit of hope she had felt was quickly dissipating. There was no way Bernie had not heard her phone continuously ringing for the past however long it’s been. So the only logical conclusion was that Bernie was ignoring her. God knows Serena had given her enough reason to do just that. But because she didn’t know where Bernie was or even if she was alright, she tried again.

Serena had, unnoticed even by herself, already finished another glass of wine. She hesitated for a moment but decided to go for a refill anyway, consequences be damned. The room around her had become unfocused and the ground beneath her chair had started to sway a little. Strong red on an empty stomach was stupid but that seemed fitting for Serena because apparently her MO for the entire day had been to stick her foot in it, hard and deep.

_I can’t compete with that._

Her finger hovered over the ‘call’ button but this time she didn’t press it. Instead she opened the photo gallery and looked at the most recent pictures she’d taken. Little baby girl in her father’s arms. So small and so loved by so many already.

She picked a photo Donna had taken of herself holding baby Guinevere in her arms with Jason sitting next to them, a look of adoration on both their faces, and sent it to Bernie.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been raining continuously for almost four days. Every evening the forecasts promise that the next day the weather would change completely, that it would be so hot even the shade would provide no relief. Thus far they had been nothing but empty promises, predictions made off of tea leaves sunk to the bottom of a tea cup or shadows cast on the walls of a darkened room by a flickering candle about to reach its end. There’s really no reason to be poetic about bad weather reports. Believing the forecast of the evening news about the next day’s weather is like trusting a groundhog to tell you when winter would become spring.

Serena thinks the weather is actually nice. It’s only appropriate that the world around her has to tolerate the same gloominess that has completely overtaken her on the inside. She tries to keep up a happy or at least a neutral front for Jason and Greta to provide a warm and dry shelter for the new little family she’d been given the privilege to be a part of. Serena doesn’t realise that everyone sees right through that.

Serena is afraid. She can’t remember ever having woken up every single morning with such a strong sense of anxiety and foreboding filling her all the way to the tips of her fingers. Her limbs seem too heavy to carry and her eyes are constantly torn between feeling like sandpaper from getting almost no sleep and getting flooded with tears she struggles to stop from escaping. It’s been four days and she doesn’t know for how much longer she can put up with this. She’s already exhausted of living this life.

All her calls to Bernie have gone unanswered, as did the text message she had sent on the first night. She’s been trying to get ahold of her, at least a dozen calls each day, but has had no joy in reaching even her beloved’s voicemail. She doesn’t hope anymore but she forces herself to keep trying. Doesn’t think she could stop herself.

On the second day she had called up every single person she could possibly think of but no one seemed to have any idea about Bernie’s current or even potential whereabouts. On the third day she had almost called Marcus. On the fourth day she received a call from the trauma center in Nairobi. Apparently Bernie hadn’t made it back and everyone else was treated to the same radio silence as Serena was. 

To say Serena was worried would be an understatement of epic proportions. This was Bernie for whom work obligations were borderline sacred, who would never let her colleagues down, would never let her patients down. And most definitely not without letting anyone know first. She’d never even called in sick as far as Serena knew. If she were a captain she would go down with her ship without a second thought.

Days seemed to pass by with a blink of an eye yet at the same time every second felt like an eternity. Serena counted the days but if she had been given the task of recollecting the events of any of them she would have nothing to say. They’d all looked the same, felt the same. Except the pain that had consumed her the moment she’d realised Bernie had left, which had been steadily increasing with each passing moment.  


\---

Serena had the day off and was endlessly grateful for it. Forcing herself to fake a smile, to concentrate on ensuring the wellbeing of others while all she wanted to do more than anything was to give up and walk away, just like Bernie had, had been pure torture. Bernie’s suitcase she had brought back with her was still in her office. Bernie had left it behind and Serena didn’t have the heart to move. Was silently hoping that Bernie would come back to collect it. No one at the ward had had the heart to say anything about it.

It was early in the evening and she had just uncorked the first bottle of the day when she heard a knock on her front door. Her initial reaction of annoyance at having been disturbed was instantly replaced by hope that just outside her house might be the one person she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about.

The bottle and the glass next to it forgotten, she almost ran to the door and tore it open.

“Ber- oh. It’s you.”

“Well, that didn’t sound like disappointment at all,” Fleur said, voice laced with her easy charm but faking offence.

“Sorry,” Serena apologised just as unconvincingly.

“I really should be offended by that but then again, I know I really don’t stand a chance against that leggy blonde you were expecting. Sorry to disappoint with little ol’ me,” she said and actually looked slightly contrite for a moment. But then it was gone and replace with the usual borderline naughty expression. “Can I come in?”

Serena let out a sigh. Her friends really didn’t deserve that kind of treatment from her.

“Sorry,” she said again, this time more genuine. Then added “Yeah, come on in.”

Fleur walked past her, setting her umbrella down by the coat rack and with the same quick efficiency disposed of her coat and shoes and made her way through to the kitchen. Serena could only follow her guests breezy movements with her eyes. When Fluer was out of sight she finally got around to closing the door and moving after her to the back of the house.

“Oh, my sweet Serena, this will simply not do!” Fleur exclaimed at the sight of Serena’s kitchen, a far cry of the one usually found in a perfectly pristine condition.

Serena’s face warmed with shame at having someone witness the visual representation of the shambles her life was currently in. Before Serena could say anything, Fleur had already started loading the dishwasher.

“You- you really don’t have to do that,” Serena tried weakly to stop the short but mighty whirlwind from cleaning up her mess.

“It’s not like you do it,” Fleur threw over her shoulder, the kindness in her voice taking the sting out of her words. “And if you’re trying to save your blushes, it’s too late for that anyway,” she added, disposing of empty wine bottles Serena had left on the counter.

Serena let out another sigh. Fleur’s presence seemed to cause that reaction more than anyone else’s. She didn’t have the energy to fight with her so she sat down at the kitchen table instead, covering her face with her hands.

“When was the last time you ate?” Fleur asked when she was done putting things away and started wiping down the counters to get rid of coffee and wine rings staining it.

“Did you hear me?” she asked when Serena didn’t offer an answer.

“I did, I’m thinking.”

“If you have to think about it it’s obviously been way too long. Wine is good, fantastic actually, but it’s not something to make a diet out of,” Fleur said seriously and made her way over to the fridge to assess its contents.

“What’re you doing?” Serena asked, slightly alarmed, looking up at the sound of refrigerator door being opened.

“Making you dinner, of course, you dimwit,” Fleur said, her standard smile back in place as she started taking food out of the fridge.

“No, no, no. I can’t have you do that,” Serena said, her face heating up yet again in mortification. “I’m not a child you have to come in and take care of.”

“Well, then stop acting like one. Though I don’t know of any children who think wine for breakfast, lunch and dinner is acceptable.”

“I don’t start my mornings with wine!” Serena’s tone went up in defence.

Fleur stopped moving around and looked at Serena with an unreadable look on her face.

“Listen, I’m not doing any of this to take a mickey out of you. And I know the fact that I’ve been making jokes about trying to compete with the Werewolf and what not might make it look like I’m trying to get into your knickers now that she’s gone. But honestly, I’m worried about you. You may be a sexy silver vixen but first and foremost I have always considered you a friend. And when a friend starts to self-destruct you help them. No ulterior motive, no hidden agenda. I just want to help.”

Serena’s eyes flooded with tears when Fleur said out loud that Bernie was gone. It was the first time someone had said that and it hit her like a punch in the gut. She tried to hold back the tears but a pitiful sob managed to escape from her mouth. Fleur was next to her in a heartbeat and pulled her friend close. Serena didn’t want to and even if she did, wouldn’t have been able to put up a fight. She buried her face against Fleur’s chest and let out everything she’d been bottling up and hiding away for days. Fleur simply stood there and held her tight.

\---

It had been raining continuously for almost four days. For three days Serena hid behind a forced smile and too much concealer. For three days she tried to numb her pain with cheap red wine on an empty stomach because expensive wines were not meant to be used like this. On the fourth day she didn’t drink wine. On the fourth day she ate a home-cooked dinner that was made with love and compassion. On the fourth day Serena cried and it finally stopped raining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was going to be 3 chapters but I'm pretty sure it's going to end up being longer than that because I don't think I want to finish this story with what chapter 3 is going to end with.  
> As usual, feedback is like fuel for writing!


	3. Chapter 3

It had finally stopped raining some time in the evening. Bernie had no idea what time it was but she thought she had seen a 24h corner store a short distance away from where she was staying when she arrived so it really didn’t matter what time it was. The walls of her room had started to feel suffocating so going shopping was as good an excuse as any to go out for a bit.

She half-crawled up from the bed she had barely left during the past few days, pushed her feet into the shoes she had discarded upon arrival and left without a glance in the mirror.  _ Not a pretty sight and can’t be arsed to do anything about it and I really don’t care _ , she thought as she stepped outside into the cool evening, air clean and fresh from rain. Few rays of sun that had made it through from between thinning clouds warmed her face. For the first time in days Bernie felt a little bit more human and a little bit more alive.

There were some people out on the streets who, just like Bernie, had come out to enjoy the end of the rainfall, which had felt endless. Some gave her a strange look but a ragged looking woman was not that unusual of a sight in this part of town to get too much attention.

Bernie walked aimlessly around the little store, not looking for anything in particular. It had been days since her last meal and she felt a little unsteady on her feet. She didn’t have much of an appetite, the thought of food actually making her feel slightly nauseous, but knew she should eat something at some point.

“Can I help you with something,” the cashier asked her, when Bernie walked past the third time without having picked out anything.

“Hm? Oh, no. No, thank you,” Bernie mumbled and kept wandering.

Nothing really struck her fancy but eventually she picked up a bottle of water and packet of salt and vinegar crisps, just so she wouldn’t have to leave without actually having bought anything. 

When she exited the store she noticed a flower stand outside. One side of the stand was filled with tulips of a variety of colours. The bright pink ones reminded her of one of Serena’s signature blouses, one she had bought because Bernie had liked the way it looked on her. Before she knew it, she had turned around.

“Excuse me,” she said to the cashier. “I’d like some flowers as well.”

“Sure,” she said with a kind smile. “Which ones?”

“Tulips, the pink ones.”

“That’ll be five pounds.”

“Okay,” she said and handed over the money.

“Pick them up on your way out,” the cashier said, the kind and genuine smile never leaving her face. Bernie almost managed one in response.

“Dear child!” a croaky voice called out to Bernie as she was walking back to the motel. The old woman sitting on the stairs of a seedy looking house would have completely slipped Bernie’s attention if she hadn’t called out to her. She looked so old that Bernie was fairly certain she should have died about two decades ago simply because humans were physically incapable of living for that long. Her eyes were clouded so instead of seeing she must have heard Bernie walking past.

“Uh, me?” she asked, stopping in front of the woman, uncertain if she was the one who had been addressed.

“Yes, you,” she replied with a smile which exposed her cappy crooked teeth.

“Do you need help?” Bernie asked, suddenly worried that the elderly woman might need help.

“Oh, no. I’m splendid. I think you’re the one who needs help.”

Bernie shook her head in confusion, “Sorry?”

“I can feel the pain radiating from you,” the woman said, staring right at Bernie. It made Bernie uncomfortable for some reason, as if the woman was somehow able to see through her. “It’s been building up inside you for some time now. If you don’t do anything about it it’s going to consume you completely, until you can no longer eat or sleep or even think. Until all you can manage is to simply exist. And even that just barely. And eventually your body and mind will simply give up. And then-”

Bernie didn’t hear the rest because without a conscious decision to do so she had walked away from the woman. Her first unsteady steps soon broke into a run, desperately carrying her away from a confrontation which was just too much too soon.

Her heart was beating wildly against her chest when she reached the door to her room. Her head fell with a heavy thud against the door. Even fishing the from her back pocket seemed like too much of an effort. Bernie didn’t know for how long she stood there, simply trying to force into her lungs that refused to cooperate. The old woman’s words echoed in her head. 

_ How? She must be almost completely blind, there is no way she could see me. Lucky guess? Or some wicked form of entertainment for someone who can’t watch the bloody TV anymore? Am I, though? Giving up?... _

Bernie forced herself to take a deep breath, pushing the thoughts whizzing inside her head to the side where they could be ignored. When world around her stopped spinning and she was certain her legs could stand to move, she stood up straight, looking down at her purchases as if seeing the for the first time. The colour of the flowers seeped through her skin and settled like a heavy weight somewhere in her chest.

“I don’t have a fucking vase,” Bernie mumbled to herself and started looking around as if one would simply appear out of thin air. At the end of the building she saw an over flowing garbage can, on the ground next to it among other things a mayonnaise jar.  _ That’ll do _ , she thought, setting down her things and walking over to the garbage can to pick it up. She opened it to check it wasn’t developing its own ecosystem from standing outside for who knows how long but luckily it seemed fresh enough.

Washing out a mayonnaise jar with only lukewarm water at her disposal proved to be surprisingly difficult but Bernie refused to leave the flowers which reminded her of Serena to simply wilt away. When she deemed the jar was clean enough to be used as a vase she filled half of it with water and set it on the table next to the window. It was slightly too small for the tulips but fortunately didn’t look like it was going to tip over any moment. Bernie curled up the best she could in one of the two worn out small armchairs, that looked about as good as she felt, next to the table and simply looked at the flowers that seemed to glow in the soft light of sunset creeping through the curtains into the old motel room.

Going out for a little while helped Bernie leave behind some of the haze that seemed to have consumed her. Yet the heaviness which was like an anchor tied around her feet and pulling her downwards remained. 

She’d always taken great bride in her ability to go with the times, especially where her work was concerned. She was always keeping herself up to date with new discoveries in the field of medicine, more than happy to utilise new equipment and bring new techniques into her everyday practice. 

But now she felt stuck. Perhaps in her personal life she was not quite as good as she thought she was with keeping up with changes. She may be shit at texting as her son had told her as kindly as he could (how was she supposed to know people don’t use hashtags when texting?) and using her Netflix account on anything other than her laptop seemed to require extra brainpower which she simply did not possess at the end of her workday but that was just modern technology, right? At least that’s what she tried to tell herself.

As far as she remembered, she had always been trying her best to maintain the status quo in her life. Not wanting to change schools as a child. Not divorcing Marcus even when she was unhappy. Not leaving the army to live a life as a civilian and spend more time with her children. Well, that had happened anyway but it wasn’t really her choice. The biggest changes in her life during the past few years had not been made by her.

Coming to Holby was a result of getting blown up - not her choice. 

Getting outed in front of the entire hospital - not her choice. 

Leaving for Kyiv - well, it was either that or a relationship that scared the shit out of her. Out of two big changes she had chosen one which didn’t frighten her to death. And really, getting together with Serena had been only partially her choice, mostly Serena’s. Bernie admitted she was mostly to blame for the shitshow surrounding this entire endeavor, so it was only right that Serena made the final move to push the two of them together, but all that followed? 

Elinor dying - nobody’s choice. 

Serena leaving - not her choice.

The little Italian restaurant with an extensive wine list getting shut down - not her choice.

Serena not coming to Nairobi with her - not her choice.

As a result of that, Bernie becoming, or more precisely, not becoming part of Serena’s family- also not her choice.

Serena still not coming to Nairobi with her - not her choice. And really, it shouldn’t be. But Bernie thought they had decided to go to Kenya instead of returning to Holby together. She told Serena she’d thought it was what they both wanted but really, it was what Serena wanted because there are too many ghosts in Holby. And all Bernie really wanted was to just be with Serena.

And so the days and the years pass by, Bernie’s life passes by. Things happen, decisions get made, some of them big, some of them involving Bernie, and she’s just a bystander to all of it, looking on as everything she’d been trying so hard to build, gets torn apart. Again. Her entire life felt like toast that keeps getting dropped and always falls with the buttered side down.

Bernie doesn’t know how long she’s been sitting there but the sun has long since dropped below the horizon. The room is dark, only illuminated by the streetlamps now casting shadows on the walls instead of the setting sun.

_ Tomorrow,  _ Bernie thought, getting up from the armchair and moving over to her bedside table where the bottle of whisky remained untouched.  _ What happens to my life tomorrow will be up to me. _

Bernie opened the bottle, for a moment regretting not having looked for a second jar as well, and lifted it into the air to make a toast.

“May there be a day... or even just an hour,” she added after a small pause, “where I can be happy.”

And Bernie drank from the bottle.

\---

Serena was on her way back to her office when she was stopped in her tracks by Fletch calling her over to the nurse’s station.

“Miss Campbell, there’s a call from St James’s, they’re asking for you,” he said, holding out the phone for Serena to take.

“What do they want?” she asked, walking over and taking the phone but not putting it to her ear, instead covering the end with her hand. She was tired, despite the fact that she’d had the previous day off, and was in no mood to deal with the problems of another hospital as well as her own.

“No idea, they didn’t say. Just asked for you,” Fletch shrugged and moved away to give Serena some privacy.

Serena sighed, putting the phone to her ear and, trying to sound as polite as possible, she said, “Serena Campbell.”

“Hi,” the male voice on the other end of the line sounded a little hesitant. “It’s Marcus. Marcus Dunn.”

Serena was instantly filled with dread. There was no way that whatever this was about was going to be good news. She cleared her throat and tried to keep her voice neutral “Hello, Mr Dunn. What can I do for you?”

“I tried to reach you on your cell but you didn’t answer so I assumed you’d be at work. There’s something I think you should know,” Serena heard Marcus take a deep breath which did nothing to ease her nervousness. “Bernie was brought in earlier this morning-”

“What? Why? What happened? Is she alright?” Serena’s voice had gone up in a mixture of surprise and panic, getting the attention of Fletch who hadn’t moved far as well some other staff members around the nurse’s station. Serena paid no attention to that.

“Erm, yeah. She should be fine, though she’s not awake yet. She- she was brought in with alcohol poisoning.”

“What?! No, that’s not possible. She- I mean-”

“I know,” Marcus interrupted Serena, his voice surprisingly kind. “There’s- uh, there’s something else.”

“Oh, god,” Serena almost moaned, a number of different scenarios, spiced with her years of experience as a doctor, already passing through her head. “Please tell me she wasn’t assaulted!”

“What? Oh, no! There are no signs of that. But they’re-” Marcus hesitated.

“What is it?” Serena asked, her voice soft, almost pleading.

Marcus took another deep breath, “They’re treating it as an attempted suicide.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ducks*  
> Sorry 'bout that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably mention at this point that I have no real knowledge of medicine, all I know I learnt online.  
> Also, I'm not a native English speaker so pardon my mistakes.

“Good afternoon, Mrs Patel!”

An elderly woman sitting in front of a house that looked as if it hadn’t been renovated for a good half a century turned her face towards the familiar voice that had addressed her and smiled. It made her normally borderline terrifying looking face seem almost kind.

“Hello, Daniel! How are you?”

“I’m very well, thanks. You’re enjoying the nice weather, I see.”

“Oh, yes. Cooped up in the house for four days, I was about to start climbing the walls,” Mrs Patel said with a wry chuckle.

“I can only imagine. No such luck, or in your case, grievance for the poor working people,” the man called Daniel said without any real disappointment in his voice.

“Oh, Daniel, tell me, I heard an ambulance siren this morning and I think it stopped quite close to here. Don’t suppose you know anything about it, do you?”

Daniel chuckled, “As nosy as ever, Mrs Patel! Don’t you know what happened to the cat?”

“Oh, but I must keep this old lady entertained, mustn’t I? And for your information, the cat was brought back by satisfaction, young man,” Mrs Patel answered, mirth visible in her blind eyes. “Now, spill!”

“I only know as much as I heard from Amanda just now. She said the new cleaner at the motel had come by the shop in the morning for fags and eagerly told her all about it. Apparently she, the cleaner I mean, herself found the woman. Said she’d tried to knock but got no answer. Peeked through the cap in the curtain and saw the woman face down on the bed. At first she thought she was just sleeping but there was an empty bottle by her side so she went in to check. You know, just in case, what with the woman in the room apparently being so slim and all. Didn’t know if she’d drank the whole bottle either. Probably did, considering the state she was in. Anyway, yeah, turns out she was in a bad way alright. So the cleaner, whatever her name was, called an ambulance. They’d apparently said the woman had probably tried to kill herself. Something about some pills, prescription ones, I think, on her bedside table as well. And with her having all these posh expensive clothes and shoes but staying in a place like that. Well, you know how it is…” Daniel trailed off.

“Oh, my! She was alive, though, right?” Mrs Patel asked in obvious shock and concern.

“I think she is, yes. At least she was when they took her away.”

“Dear heaven, I hope it’s not the same lass I frightened the life out of last night!” Mrs Patel suddenly exclaimed, her palm and slightly crooked fingers pressed against her chest. “Poor choice of words… but I do think I may have gone a bit overboard with her and I’m fairly certain that she ran off towards the motel.”

“As far as I know, she was not quite in the age category where one could call her a ‘lass’-” Daniel attempted to joke.

“Neither was the woman last night,” Mrs Patel cut in. “Sounded about middle aged, I’d say.”

“Yeah, so was she, I think. But then, I’m sure there are more middle aged women staying in the motel. And even if there aren’t, I’m sure it’s not your fault if she tried to end herself,” Daniel tried to reassure the obviously concerned woman in front of her.

“But what if I am? What if I was the last straw, what pushed her over the edge?”

“You did your usual ‘I can sense your anguish* bit with her, didn’t you?” Daniel sighed.

“Yes,” Mrs Patel said dejectedly.

“Well, whatever pushed her to do it, I’m sure you weren’t the reason. And if it played a part, well, if it hadn’t, something else would’ve,” Daniel said, resting his hand free of shopping bags on one of the frail shoulders in front of him. “Though perhaps you could do some more cheerful pranks on strangers to keep yourself entertained instead.”

Mrs Patel wrapped one of her hands around Daniel’s wrist. “Thank you.”

\---

Serena had come to St James’s almost as soon as she had hung up the phone. She was allowed to sit next to Bernie despite having no official, or at this point even unofficial, relation to her mainly thanks to Marcus who had been surprisingly kind to her. Serena obviously hadn’t asked but assumed it was because a part of him still loved Bernie and that is must have overshadowed any and all resentment he still held when faced with the fact that Bernie had tried to take her own life. Serena staying with Bernie also helped to make sure she was safe until it was possible to perform a full evaluation.

Serena herself was a whirlwind of emotions. She was scared out of her mind, thinking of all the possible things that might go wrong while Bernie’s body processes the amount of alcohol she had consumed and what might go wrong in the future. She was shocked that Bernie had done that to herself. The fact that she had worked as a doctor literally at the frontlines for years had given Serena the impression that Bernie was someone who valued life above all else. Especially considering the way she fought for every single one of her patients and how devastated she was by every single loss, even when it was hopeless from the moment the patient was brought in. Bernie never thought saving anyone was hopeless, as long as they hadn’t been pronounced dead. Sometimes even that wasn’t enough to stop her from trying, from refusing to give up when everyone else had.

Serena was feeling a lot of things, sitting and watching the love of her life, a tracheal tube keeping her mouth and airways open, IV dripping fluids and glucose into her bloodstream to help her cope with the alcohol. _To bring her back to me sooner_ , Serena thought, squeezing her eyes shut, tears prickling behind her eyelids, as if it would shut out the world where this situation was even possible. Serena was feeling a lot of things but more than anything, she felt guilty. It was sitting like a bag of cement low in her belly, making her nauseous to the point of thinking she might actually throw up. 

Bernie’s normally bad circulation combined with the mild hypothermia caused by alcohol poisoning made her hands so cold that Serena found herself occasionally checking to make sure her heart was in fact still beating. She tried to warm Bernie’s fingers by rubbing them softly between her own. Anything to help make Bernie more comfortable. Anything to ease her own guilt.

Marcus had come by a couple of times to check up on his ex-wife but had mostly stayed away. Serena was silently grateful for it. She assumed Marcus hadn’t told the children yet. Probably wanting to wait until Bernie woke up and would be able to talk to them herself. Or perhaps simply because he didn’t want to traumatize the kids with the news.

Bernie’s heart rate and blood pressure had returned to mostly normal and her breathing seemed even enough that Serena expected Bernie to wake up soon. The heaviness of guilt inside Serena was suddenly accompanied by the fluttering of nervousness at having to talk to Bernie. She didn’t really know what to say and each time she tried to think about it, all she could come up with was a pitiful ‘I’m sorry’.

A nurse and a doctor who Serena didn’t know and whose name Serena hadn’t bothered to remember came into the room, a private one, another one of Marcus’s favours. Serena stood, squeezing Bernie’s now slightly less cold fingers once more before she moved away to give them space. The doctor deemed Bernie to be well enough for the tube in her airways to be removed. Serena felt herself relax a little, the tube being gone making Bernie look just a little bit more like herself.

When they left, Serena returned to Bernie’s side, her hands moving towards Bernie’s to grab hold of it of their own accord. Suddenly all of Serena’s nervousness about Bernie waking up and having to talk to her were gone and all that was left was the desire to see her open her eyes, hear her speak, feel her move.

“C’mon, sleepy head, please, wake up now,” Serena murmured against Bernie’s knuckles.

Serena let her forehead rest on the bed next to Bernie, as if in prayer. There was a burst of anxious energy that filled Serena in an instant. Serena thought she could probably throw a bus over if she wanted to. So much had been building up inside of her for so long and she needed a way to let it out. She suddenly understood Bernie’s desire to run, both literally and figuratively, when things suddenly became too much. She pictured herself sprinting down the corridor, out on the streets, for as long as she could, until no more air could enter her lungs and her legs felt like bags of sand and she simply could not keep going. She longed for that kind exhaustion to replace whatever it was that was inside her at this moment.

Serena felt the hand between her own twitch, her head shooting up so quickly she thought she might give herself whiplash.

“Bernie?”

Her eyelids fluttered a little before opening, the dark eyes underneath were uncharacteristically glazed and empty, the colour seeming impossibly cold, as they darted around the room. Bernie opened her mouth, as if to say something, but nothing came out.

“You’re in St James’s,” Serena said softly. “Do you want some water?”

Bernie’s eyes had fixed on Serena, her face completely unreadable. Serena’s chest suddenly became too small for her lungs to expand fully and she struggled to take a deep breath. Fear that Bernie was simply going to tell her to leave consumed her so completely she almost missed Bernie’s quiet and raspy ‘yes, please’.

“Hm? Oh, yes, water,” Serena dropped Bernie’s hand unceremoniously, turning jerkily towards the bedside table and grabbing hold of the handle of the jug. “Let me just- yes,” Serena rambled as she poured a glass of water for Bernie. Bernie herself used the time to push her body into a half-sitting position.

Throughout it all Bernie’s eyes remained fixed on Serena, her face still giving nothing away. When Serena handed her the glass, she took a few sips, seemingly savouring the feeling of cool water in her presumably quite parched throat. After a few more small sips she handed the glass back to Serena, who put it back on the table, and rested her hands in her lap, out of Serena’s reach. Serena’s chest constricted further when she noticed the movement but couldn’t really fault Bernie for doing it. If she needed space, Serena would give it to her.

Serena sat uncomfortably, not knowing what to say. Bernie remained silent as well which only increased Serena’s discomfort. She’d told Bernie she wasn’t going to lose her, Bernie had said that she already had. At the time, Serena hadn’t understood how Bernie could say or even think something like that but now she thought she might. Her presence here seemed unwanted, like Bernie wasn’t going to tell her to leave but would be relieved if she did. If Serena left, they wouldn’t have to deal with the elephant who seemed to take up all the free space around them. 

When Bernie had come to Holby to surprise Serena, she had been happy, but at one point she had caught herself wishing she hadn’t come. Simply because then Serena wouldn’t have to choose. And of course Bernie had sensed that. Had felt that she was unwelcome. No wonder she had assumed it meant that there was no room for her in Serena’s world. Serena had told Bernie that she wasn’t family. She had accused Bernie of trying to ambush her to get her to sign a contract she had promised to sign, had once told Bernie she _wanted_ to sign. Serena had accused Bernie of bullying her into going to Nairobi with her. 

Serena had done everything she possibly could to make Bernie feel like less than nothing, like a nobody. And now she had the audacity to sit here and wait for Bernie to say something first. _Right! Please, don’t mess this up again_ , she thought to herself, fidgeting with her hands like normally Bernie did. Bernie herself sat completely still.

“I don’t know what’s real,” she suddenly said, surprising Serena out of her thoughts.

“Erm, sorry?” Serena had no idea what Bernie meant by that.

“I don’t know what’s real,” Bernie repeated, slower this time, as if speaking to someone incredibly dense.

“I’m sorry, love, but you’re going to have to explain yourself a little,” Serena said carefully, wincing internally at the endearment that had slipped thorough, not knowing if it would be welcome or not.

“Can you tell me why I’m here?” Bernie asked, seemingly changing the topic but Serena was fairly certain it was connected.

“You don’t remember?” Serena asked, only a little surprised.

“No, I obviously don’t,” Bernie said without any real bite to her tone.

“You were brought in with alcohol poisoning.”

“Oh?” Bernie looked genuinely surprised, even confused, but didn’t say anything else about it. “St James’s, yes?”

“Yes.” Serena didn’t mention that she had already told Bernie that.

“Did we- I mean- well, you’re here so I must be wrong but- I, uh-” Bernie who had seemed perfectly composed earlier had started to ramble, unable to formulate a proper sentence. She took a deep breath and looked as if she was bracing herself for an impact. “I for some reason have this thought in my head that we- that we broke up?”

Serena hesitated for a moment, not quite knowing how to respond to that. Bernie took her reaction as confirmation.

“We- we did?” she asked in a quiet voice. “A few days ago? In Holby? And I left? That’s all real, that all happened?”

“Yes,” Serena’s voice broke on the one syllable.

Bernie’s hesitation left her and she was suddenly hiding behind her facade of complete composure again. The only indication of any internal struggle were her hands that were grasping the sheet covering her in an iron grip.

“You told me I wasn’t your family,” she said, her voice sounding tired but otherwise remaining emotionless. It wasn’t a question and Serena didn’t answer. “Why are you here?”

“I- what?”

“Why are you here? You made it clear that you chose Jason and Greta and the baby over me. I can understand why they are more important but I don’t understand why having both was not even an option…” she trailed off as if having gone off course with her train of thought. She shook her head as if to clear it, her eyes focusing on Serena again. “So, you clearly chose them. Why are you here?”

“What- what are you talking about? What do you mean I clearly chose them?” Serena asked incredulously. She had quite a vivid recollection of telling Bernie ‘I choose you’. She didn’t make that up in her head, did she?

“The photo.”

“What photo!?” Serena asked, her voice going up.

“The one you sent me. Of you and Jason and the baby,” Bernie said, her eyes not meeting Serena’s anymore.

“What?” Serena’s lips moved silently for a few seconds, at a loss for words. “No, no, no! That- that was meant as- I just wanted to let you know that the baby had been born and- and that she was safe and healthy. I just wanted to share the news with you. It- that wasn’t meant to- it wasn’t me choosing them over you. I’m sorry it came across like that and for not explaining. I’m so sorry- so, so sorry for so many things.” Now that Serena had started talking she didn’t seem to be able to stop. 

The reality of the situation hit Serena like a tsunami. She pressed a hand over her mouth in a futile attempt to stifle her sobs. “I’m so sorry for pushing you that far!”

Bernie let out a small snort at that, Serena’s head snapped up in shock. She was crying her eyes out at the anguish she had caused the both of them and Bernie laughed at her. She knew Bernie didn’t possess even an ounce of cruelty in her entire body so it must mean that she really found Serena’s reaction in this moment amusing.

Bernie covered her mouth with her hand, just like Serena had a few moment earlier, looking guilty at her reaction. “I’m sorry, Serena. It’s just that- you’re sorry for pushing me that far. I mean, could’ve been ever further than Kenya, couldn’t it? Sorry, I don’t know why I found that funny,” she said, face colouring slightly with shame.

Serena had stopped crying, was now staring at Bernie in complete surprise. “That’s- that is not what I meant.”

It was Bernie’s turn to be confused, “What _did_ you mean?”

“The- I- I meant the fact- well- that you tried-”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, spit it out,” Bernie said not unkindly.

“For pushing you to try to kill yourself,” Serena mumbled quietly.

“What?!”

“You heard me,” Serena said, her eyes flooding with fresh tears. “Don’t make me repeat that.”

“You- you think I- what? Tried to kill myself with alcohol!?”

“They found you in a seedy motel, pills on the night table, almost empty bottle of whisky next to you, you yourself unconscious, hypothermic, barely breathing… what were we supposed to think?!”

Bernie let out a bark of joyless laughter. “And you, what? Thought I just went ahead and tried to kill myself because I no longer had you? Get off your high horse, you're not _that_ great,” Bernie said with a snort, reminding Serena of Ellie in her rebellious teenage years. Her words hit her like a punch in the gut but she pushed down her own emotions, knowing it was more hurt and anger than genuine disgust with Serena. And she needed to put Bernie first for once.

“Okay, then why did you do it?” Serena asked, trying to make her voice sound as even and neutral as possible.

“Do what?” Bernie asked.

“Attempt suicide,” Serena said patiently.

“I didn’t!” Bernie exclaimed. She continued in a more subdued tone, sensing that she really did need to explain what had happened. “I guess I just got carried away with my celebratory drink, forgetting that I hadn’t eaten, well, anything, really, for days. I was stupid and careless and I fucked up and thank god for whoever found me but I really did not do it intentionally.”

Serena thought Bernie’s answer seemed genuine but couldn’t help asking, “What about the pills?”

“What is this, an interrogation?” Bernie asked. At Serena’s raised eyebrow she sighed, giving in yet again. “Fine, I hadn’t slept well for a few nights before coming to Holby. And the mattress in the motel was shitty. So I needed the pain medication because, surprise, my back’s still messed up.”

Serena had noticed Bernie wince after coming to the hospital straight from the airport and had known instantly it was because of her back but hadn’t had a chance to mention it or offer a massage. She didn’t know what to say to that, wasn’t certain if an apology was appropriate.

“Celebratory drink? What were you celebrating?” she decided to ask instead, genuinely curious.

Bernie remained silent for a few long moments, deep in thought.

“Hope,” she said eventually, looking Serena right in the eyes. “I was celebrating hope. For days I thought there wasn’t any left, not for me. But- I think there is. There is hope that I might be happy again some day.”

Serena swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat, blinking away the tears.

“What about us?” she asked. “Is there any hope at all for us?”

Bernie turner her face away from Serena, instead gazing out the small window on the opposite wall. Serena held her breath. She wasn’t sure if Bernie was going to answer. Wasn’t sure she was strong enough to handle the answer, whatever it was going to be.

“Such a lovely day,” Bernie said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was going to be 3 chapters, then it was going to be 4. Then things got out of hand and now I have no idea if I should continue to try and fix the mess I've made of their lives or leave it at that.  
> Let me know?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a mess of things, I tried to fix it.  
> English is not my native language and I don't have a beta so all mistakes are my own. I also know close to nothing about medicine so sorry about any potential inaccuracies.

Serena had received two calls from Marcus Dunn in one day. One to inform her that Bernie had been brought into the hospital, second to inform her that she been released. There had been a psych evaluation but apparently the professionals had also determined that what had happened had been an accident, that Berenice Wolfe had no intent to cause harm to herself.

Serena had come home after Bernie had made it, although non-verbally, or at least not directly but irrefutably nonetheless, clear that she wanted to be left alone. The last thing Serena wanted to do was leave but had forced her legs into co-operation to stand up and leave the room while simultaneously trying to restrain herself from reaching out to simply touch Bernie to reassure herself once more that she was in fact here and alive, because her right to claim any space in Bernie’s hospital room had been thrown out the window the moment she had declared Bernie wasn’t her family.

Serena had almost been tempted to do some research into time travel, silly and futile as it may be, simply to entertain the idea to go back in time to stop her past self from saying something which had, unsurprisingly so, wounded Bernie in the most horrible of ways. Of course Serena considered her family. She considered Jason and Greta and baby Guinevere and Bernie and Cameron and Charlotte - all of them as her family. To imply there was room for only some of them in her life and not others was in her own eyes vile and wrong in every way she could think of. 

Why she had said it, Serena didn’t really know. She wished she could come up with an explanation, not for herself but for Bernie’s sake, because there not being a reason at all might not go down very well as far as apologies went. If she got the chance to do it properly was a completely different matter of course.

Serena had been left with a sharp throbbing ache in her chest after Bernie’s blatant dismissal of her inquiry about the future of them. She tried to force herself to see the, dim but nevertheless existing, bright side of the fact that Bernie hadn’t outright told her that there was no ‘us’ left to speak of, but hadn’t been all that successful, being quite well versed with Bernie’s tendency to ignore the matters of the heart, not as a surgeon of course, for as long as possible. Perhaps it wasn’t uncertainty of whether she really wanted to erase Serena from her life, perhaps she just didn’t know how to say it to her.

So Serena had left the hospital, not knowing what to do with herself. She wasn’t expected back at work for the rest of the day nor was she meant to go in the next. Jason had told her in no uncertain terms that while she may have more experience with new born babies, he and Greta needed to get the hang of things on their own and that should any questions arise that couldn’t be answered with the help of some thorough research they would call her. She knew she was welcome in Guinevere’s life as the great auntie but couldn’t use her as a distraction from the, frankly put, shit storm that her personal life had become. And it would be in no way fair towards anyone involved, least of all Guinevere, though Serena loved her already more than she had ever thought possible.

Nothing was waiting for Serena at home but she had gone there anyway. She ignored the wine, Bernie’s accident too fresh on her mind to even seriously consider having a glass, or five. Her pain couldn’t be numbed, it could only be eased by the woman who was allowed to leave the hospital, to go home. 

_Her home should be with me_ , Serena thought, the ache in her tightened chest showing no signs of letting her off its sharp and crooked hooks which seemed to have taken permanent residence somewhere between her lungs.

Serena was well and truly fucked.

\---

It was getting close to midnight, though Serena was gloriously oblivious to the fact. She had been staring unseeingly at her TV for the past however long. She’d turned it to mute almost as soon as she had turned it on. She’d wanted a distraction but the annoying and seemingly endless applauding of the audience in the studio of whichever show had been on didn’t provide comfort in her mostly involuntary solitude but rather grated on her nerves like a chainsaw which had been modified by a very enthusiastic lumberjack.

The knock at her front door was so faint Serena would have missed it had the TV’s sound been turned on. She had a feeling she knew who was coming to see her and considered ignoring her. Fleur was a good friend but this time she really wanted to see only one person and that person she expected to ignore her own pathetically forlorn existence at least until the cows came home and then perhaps for a little while after that as well.

There was another knock and Serena forced herself up, if only to not appear like a jerk, though she had every intent to send Fleur away in no uncertain terms.

Her breath got caught in her throat, the words ‘Thank you for your concern but I don’t want company tonight’ along side it, when she opened the door.

“Bernie,” she choked out, her voice a peculiar mixture of shock, disbelief, love and concern.

Concern because Bernie’s arm was resting against the wall next to the door, her head pressed against it, hair covering her features. At Serena’s voice she turned her head slightly to be able to look at Serena. There wasn’t a smile on her face, only complete exhaustion, and instead of a greeting she asked if she could come in, not waiting for an answer but pushing herself off the wall and staggering, almost falling into the house.

Serena jumped forward, wrapping her arms around Bernie’s body which felt even thinner than she had been before. Serena wasn’t certain if she was imagining it because of the mild hypothermia or if Bernie’s body was in fact also worryingly cool to the touch, but being able to hold onto her, feeling the body of her love pressed against her own, sent a jolt of something, not arousal but something softer, yet no less pleasurable, through her like a current of electricity.

Serena pushed the door closed behind them with her foot, hands occupied with the task of making sure the pale woman on legs as shaky as those of a newborn deer in her arms would stay upright.

“I‘m fine,” Bernie said, barely moving her lips, pushing Serena away from her by the shoulders.

Serena took a step back and reluctantly removed her hands from Bernie’s body but kept them up, ready to catch the woman before her if necessary.

“I just don’t want you to fall and get hurt,” she said almost shyly, not certain if her concern for the well-being of them woman in front of her would be welcome.

“Can’t have that, can we? It’s what I have you for,” Bernie said, not looking at Serena. Her voice didn’t sound angry, it was more like she was stating a simple fact; she may as well have said ‘there’s a piece of lint on your shirt’, but that didn’t change the fact that the persistent throbbing which, at the sight of Bernie at her door, had disappeared to an almost unnoticeable dull ache, in her had come back full force at Bernie’s words.

Bernie used Serena’s momentary distraction and moved past her towards the sitting room. She did feel a bit shaky on her feet, though that had more to do with her hangover which she hadn’t been able to avoid than anything even remotely serious, and really wanted to sit down on something that’s wasn’t a wooden bench or chair. She kept one hand lightly pressed against the wall just in case as she made her way through the hallway. Her headache was almost gone and she was no longer nauseous but didn’t want to take any chances. She had come here to talk, not to play doctor with Serena.

Serena followed her after she had already sat down on the armchair she had a while ago claimed as ‘her own’. It used to be her favourite place to sit down and read a book when she was blessed enough to get the chance to relax in such a simple manner. Any other time found her sitting on the sofa next to, usually pressed against, Serena.

Serena’s eyes stopped on the armchair for a moment and Bernie knew she had noticed the specific choice in regard to sitting options that Bernie had made. Serena’s eyes filled with tears as she moved to sit on the sofa by herself. If they both reached their arms out, they’d be able to link hands.

The sight of her tears caused Bernie to feel the urge to comfort Serena. It seemed to have become her natural instinct whenever she saw Serena in any from of distress, but forced the reaction down in herself. They needed to talk because pressing Serena against her chest and kissing her hair wasn’t going to resolve anything. If there was anything to resolve. The fact that Bernie’s choice on where to sit had apparently saddened Serena gave Bernie some hope.

“Bernie, I’m-” Serena was cut of by one of Bernie’s hands being raised, gesturing for her to stop.

“Please, don’t.”

Serena’s breath hitched slightly at Bernie’s words.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “How- how’re you feeling?”

“Doesn’t matter how much fluid they pump into your bloodstream, you can’t escape the hangover your own stupidity has caused,” she muttered wrily.

“Do you want some water?” Serena asked for the second time that day.

“Nah- no, I’m good. I had a massive burger and a lemonade, like a proper college student. That did the trick. Well, mostly. Apparently my body has caught up with my age and doesn’t- well-” Bernie cut off her own rambling, knowing she was, out of habit of self-preservation when it came to all things emotion-related, trying to postpone the conversation she herself had come to have.

There was a moment of silence between them. Serena wanted to say so many things yet couldn’t voice any of them. Perhaps it was for the better, she thought, wanting to give Bernie the lead in whatever was about to happen. Bernie herself seemed to be in no rush to fill the silence.

Eventually she said, eyes fixed firmly on Serena’s, “We need to talk.”

 _Good job there, as far as cliches go this hit the mark_ , Bernie mentally chastised herself.

“Yeah,” Serena agreed, “I suppose we do.”

“You asked me if there was any hope for us.”

Serena’s stomach dropped. That was it. Bernie was going to tell her that she had ruined them and there was no going back. She couldn’t hold Bernie’s gaze, suddenly finding the carpet more interesting, already prepared for the inevitable onslaught of despair.

“The answer is…” Bernie took a deep breath as if bracing herself for the words she was about to say. “The answer is, I don’t know.”

“What?” Serena looked up. So ready was she to receive the fatal blow to the already shaky ruins of their relationship that Bernie’s words caught her completely off guard.

“I don’t know,” Bernie repeated. Her voice was quiet but clear. “Because- because I can’t go back to the way things were. Some things need to change. Because I’m not happy. I haven’t been for- for so long. And I can’t keep going like this-”

Serena was going to interrupt but Bernie raised her hand once again to silence her.

“Just let me finish and then you can say all you- whatever it is you want to tell me.”

At Serena’s small nod Bernie continued.

“I want you to know that I love you. I called the trauma center in Nairobi, apologised profusely and let them know that I cannot return, don’t want to return-”

“What-” Bernie was going to admonish Serena for interrupting her yet again but Serena spoke over her. “What about- you- you wanted this, didn’t you? Just a few days ago you couldn’t get me to go there with you fast enough. This is your dream job!”

“No!” Bernie’s tone was forceful, taking on an indisputably angry tone. “What I wanted was you! You wanted a fresh start, away from Holby and all its ghosts. You wanted to go away and I wanted to go wherever you went to be with _you_! The only reason I went to Kenya was because you were going to join me. Do I like the job? Yes. Do I think it makes a difference? Yes. But I’ve spent so much of my life trying to make a difference for others that I’ve forgotten about myself. But you changed you mind, you’re not going to move to the other side of the world for me. So there’s no point in me staying there either. I want to be here, where my kids are. Where y-,” Bernie cut herself off.

Serena knew it wasn’t actually possible, yet she physically felt her heart shatter into a thousand pieces.

“Ber-”

“No! I need to say this. Actually, no. Tell me something first. Maybe I’m just making a complete fool of myself here,” Bernie looked at Serena with a pained expression on her face. “What do you want? Do you want me? In any way? Is this worth even fighting for or have you just grown tired of me and sending me away, to chase this ‘dream job’ like a bloody carrot on a string, was just a way to get rid of me without actually having to face me and tell me you don’t love me anymore?”

“No! No, no, no,” Serena jumped forward, kneeling next to Bernie’s armchair, looking up at her, begging her to believe what she was saying. “I love you so much! I- I did want to come to Nairobi. With you. I was going to come. Just- it’s just that- Jason-”

“Why does it have to be a choice between us?!” Bernie exclaimed loudly, startling Serena, making her lean back away from her, sitting down on her heels.

“It doesn’t. It’s not. It was a choice between Holby and Nairobi. I- I thought I could only have you in Kenya but I can only be a part of Jason and his little family’s life here. I- I thought- I couldn’t bear to be away from them. But I can’t bear to be away from you either,” Serena said through sobs which had overtaken her.

“Why- why didn’t you just ask me to come back?” Bernie asked quietly, her brows furrowed in confusion.

“Because I- I thought you would choose the job over me. And- and that would’ve been unbearable. So I thought that having you with me a few times a year was better than not having you at all.”

“So if- well, not if. Now that I am back in England, full time-” Bernie was cut off by Serena who had leaned towards her again, taking hold of her hand which had been resting on the armrest.

“I don’t want to lose you! I can’t lose you!”

Bernie exhaled loudly, as if releasing tension she’d been carrying with herself for a long time from her body. She put her other hand on Serena’s that were holding onto her.

“Okay. I’m very happy to hear that. But- well, there’s still things that need to change.”

Serena’s face fell. 

“What kind of things?” she asked, though, as seemed to be the custom in their recent interactions, she wasn’t sure she was prepared to hear the answer.

“I’m not completely sure,” Bernie said honestly. “I just think I need to be for a little while without everything in my world falling apart. I need to be the one in charge of my life again. And- ahh! I- I think I might go to therapy. It’s- my head’s a scary place sometimes…”

Serena squeezed Bernie’s hands wrapped around her own, now once again worried about her- Serena didn’t really know at this point what Bernie was to her. Well, lover or not, she decided, Bernie was family. And Serena was worried about her mental well-being once again. She knew psych evaluations could be passed with deception if you knew what they wanted to see and hear.

“And our relationship- maybe we should take a step back,” Bernie continued, unaware of Serena’s inner turmoil.

“What?” Serena was caught off-guard yet again, heaviness spreading around her body and into her limbs, numbness crawling up from the tips of her fingers.

“It’s just that- well, we started off with me royally fucking up. And then, as we were finding our feet in this relationship, Elinor died. All that followed, you leaving, France, long distance… it hasn’t been a smooth sailing…” Bernie trailed off for a moment. “Maybe we should try again from the start? We could go out on dates, spend some time together, get used to each other again, hopefully without some kind of tragedy or a date of departure looming over us. And then we’ll go from there.”

Bernie looked so hopeful, her eyes wide with desperation, wanting and needing this to work out because the days without Serena had been horrendous. Worse than Serena away on a sabbatical, worse than looking forward to the day Serena would come to her. She’d lost all hope but right now, she had gathered all the courage she could find left in herself and laid out her heart at Serena’s feet, hoping she wasn’t wrong, hoping that Serena loved her enough to want to try again, hoping that she was worth it, hoping to finally have everything she wanted.

“Yes!” Serena agreed immediately, then took a mental step back to keep herself from getting too carried away and potentially doing something which might cross the boundaries Bernie seemed to have set on their relationship. But she also wanted to be completely honest. Bernie deserved that.

“I mean, I’ve missed you so much I want nothing more than to keep you here and never let you go again but I think you might be right. This could be good for us.”

“Okay,” Bernie sighed, a shy smile but a smile nonetheless, took over her features.

It melted the ice freezing Serena from the inside in an instant. There wasn’t a more beautiful sight in the whole entire world which could top that. Serena answered with a blinding smile of her own. She was so happy, so relieved it was beyond her wildest dreams that this disastrous day could end like this.

“So- erm- Serena, would- would you like to go out with me?” Bernie asked, the smile still tugging at the corners of her lips, but her tone had a clear hint of cautiousness to it, as if asking her crush out for the first time.

“Yes. Oh, yes, please,” Serena said earnestly. “Nothing would make me happier!”

Serena tugged on Bernie’s hands in her own to pull her down towards herself. She let go of the hands in her own and wrapped her arms around Bernie. The smell that was so authentically Bernie filled her nostrils as she pressed her face against the side of Bernie’s neck. The skin against her nose was soft and warm and it felt like coming home after a long winter spent abroad.

Bernie’s arms came around her back, pulling her closer with strength which never failed to surprise Serena. It was a little awkward with her kneeling on the floor and Bernie sitting and Serena’s knees ached a little but she didn’t mind, would’ve willingly stayed just like this for an eternity.

“I love you,” Serena murmured quietly against Bernie’s neck.

Tears suddenly sprung to her eyes, tears of exhaustion, relief, happiness, sorrow over how much worse things could’ve gone.

“Shh,” Bernie whispered in Serena’s ear, rubbing her hands up and down Serena’s back. “We’re going to be okay. And I love you. We can do this.”

Serena nodded against Bernie’s shoulder, trying to keep herself form falling apart completely, her tears leaving a wet patch on Bernie’s blouse.

“I’m so sorry,” she gasped out through the sobs. “I’m sorry I said you’re not family. Because you are. I don’t know why I said that. I didn’t mean that...”

“Thank you.” Bernie pressed a kiss to Serena’s temple.

“And I- I’m sorry I ac- accused you of trying to ambush me and- and not supporting me. It- that wasn’t fair,” Serena struggled to get the words out but needing to say them. Needing to clear the air between before their fresh start. Needing Bernie to know that she had made so many mistakes, said so many wrong things, and that she regretted them all fiercely.

“Like you said once, I think we can draw a veil over that. You were under a lot of pressure, though you could’ve just talked to me instead of- well, what’s done is done and it’s forgiven.”

Serena shook her head, rubbing her forehead against Bernie’s shoulder in the process. “I don’t deserve you.”

Bernie pushed Serena back by the shoulder for the second time that night.

“Serena, look at me.”

Bernie waited until Serena lifter her eyes from lap and met her own. Serena’s face was wet a blotchy and yet had never looked lovelier to Bernie.

“None of this has anything to do with what someone deserves or doesn’t deserve. We love each other and that’s that,” Bernie said simply.

Serena’s eyes flooded with fresh tears at Bernie’s words but she nodded.

“I’m-”

“No more apologies!” Bernie cut Serena off, knowing what she was about to say.

A small smile grew on Serena’s face at Bernie’s words.

“One more?” she asked, trying to wipe her nose with her sleeve as delicately as possible.

Bernie let out an exasperated sigh.

“Fine. But just this one,” she warned.

“I’m so sorry for hurting you,” Serena said, her face completely serious once again.

“And I forgive you,” Bernie replied in kind. 

“Now up you come, my knees are hurting just from watching you,” she continued in a more lighthearted tone and stood to help Serena stand as well. Serena groaned as she got up off the floor, Bernie holding her hands to pull her up. No matter how soft the carpet was, she was way beyond the age where kneeling on the floor (and not a bed) for a considerable amount of time was something which didn't cause long lasting damage to her joints.

“My body is definitely appropriate for someone who is officially a great aunt,” she muttered.

“You’re not old! And you most definitely don’t look it,” Bernie said, her eyes shining with affection.

“You’re obliged to say that, we haven’t had our date yet,” Serena winked playfully before bending down to rub her knees.

“Oh, yes. Which reminds me, are you working tomorrow?”

“No, I’m off and free to do as I please.”

“How about lunch, then?”

“I’d love it!”

“I’ll pick you up at…” Bernie checked the clock on the wall. “Oh, it’s quite late. I’ll pick you up at 2?”

“It’s a date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is it (at least for now).  
> Thank you for reading!  
> Let me know what you think.


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